


Rocks and Stars

by Ailendolin



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff, Hurt Will Schofield, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Protective Tom Blake, Soft Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailendolin/pseuds/Ailendolin
Summary: Blakefield Winter Wonderland 2020: Day 30: HypothermiaThe last thing Tom had expected to happen when he took Myrtle for a walk that afternoon and asked Will to come with him was for Will to almost die.
Relationships: Joseph Blake/Lieutenant Leslie, Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39
Collections: Walking In A Blakefield Wonderland





	Rocks and Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is my last prompt fill for the Blakefield winter prompt event and I'm very happy to be finally able to share it with the world! I've had a lot of fun writing this (even if some paragraphs frustrated me to no end) and I'm still surprised that this turned out less angsty than my gift giving prompt lol.  
> Shoutout to the organizers and my fellow participants of this event! Thank you for turning December into such a wonderful month filled with so much unique and amazing Blakefield content! 
> 
> **Warnings:** mention of animal cruelty, swearing, talk of injuries
> 
> Disclaimer: I own neither 1917 and make no money with this.

**Rocks and Stars**

The last thing Tom had expected to happen when he took Myrtle for a walk that afternoon and asked Will to come with him was for Will to almost die.

The skies were a brilliant blue and cloudless when they headed out – perfect for long walks over the snowy fields that surrounded the Blake farm. Myrtle was happily jumping from one snowdrift into another, darting from left to right and back again at high speeds. Tom couldn’t help but grin at her antics. She seemed to be having the time of her life and he was almost tempted to join her. Only the thought of having to spend the rest of their walk in damp clothes stopped him, and he contented himself with cheering Myrtle on instead.

“Yeah, that’s my girl! Go show the evil snow who’s the queen of the land!”

Next to him, Will laughed.

It was a beautiful sound, echoing loud and clear over the frozen landscape, and it made Tom stop in his tracks. He hadn’t heard Will laugh in over a year - maybe even longer than that since he couldn’t remember Will’s laugh sounding like this during the war: carefree, unrestrained and happy. Warmth filled him from his toes to his fingertips as he watched Will trail after Myrtle, still chuckling quietly to himself and completely oblivious to Tom’s thoughts.

Will had only been home for a little over a week. Tom hadn’t even known he was coming back to England until he opened the door one afternoon just before Christmas and found Will standing there, pale, awfully thin and shivering like a leaf in the wind. He’d looked exhausted and worn down, his eyes barely lighting up with happiness and relief when Tom pulled him into his arms with a sob.

Looking at Will now, Tom couldn’t believe what a difference a few days of his mother’s homecooked meals, Myrtle’s affectionate kisses and Tom’s never-ending stories had made. Will still looked tired and gaunt but a spark now lit up his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He smiled more often, too – just a small quirk of his lips every now and then, but it was there and it made Tom’s day every time he managed to coax it out.

But seeing him laugh was something else, something entirely _new_. The way his eyes crinkled when he threw his head back, completely unabashed, was the most beautiful thing Tom had ever seen. It was proof that the war hadn’t won. The trenches, the barbed wire and the gas might have chipped away at Will’s soul for years, might have beaten him down and taken everything they could from him, but in the end despite their best efforts they hadn’t managed to break him. Will was healing – slowly and piece by little piece perhaps, but he was. Just like Joe and Leslie were.

Just like Tom had.

Feeling more hopeful than he had in months, Tom wiped his eyes with the back of his gloved hand before he hurried after Will and Myrtle. He glanced at Will when he caught up with them, took in the rosy cheeks and lingering smile, and bit his lip to keep himself from grinning like a fool.

“What?” Will asked, finally noticing the look on his face.

Tom ducked his head, still smiling. “Nothing.”

Will huffed in amusement, clearly not believing him, but let it go.

The sun slowly began to set, turning the sky from bright blue to a glowing orange, as they made their way across the fields towards the lake Tom had spent many winter days of his childhood ice-skating on with Joe. It was surrounded by a row of tall fir trees that cast long shadows over the surrounding fields and marked the end of the Blake property. The sight of it made Tom smile. Today was the first time he’d brought Will here, but he hoped it wouldn’t be the last: if the ice turned out to be thick enough to hold their weight, Tom planned on coming back tomorrow with his and Joe’s old skates in tow. Will might have forgotten about Tom’s promise from two years ago, but Tom had not. He still remembered the cold of that night in the trenches like it had been yesterday, how the world had seemed to hold its breath as the temperatures dropped, how he and Will had clung to each other beneath their blankets for hours and filled the space between them with whispered words, terrified of falling asleep and never waking up again.

He’d learned a lot about Will that night: that his favourite colour was blue, that his mother had begun to teach him how to play the piano when he was four years old, that he loved poetry – and that he’d never been ice-skating in his life.

“I’ll take you one day,” Tom had sworn with his nose buried against Will’s scarf before he’d launched into a tale about his own ice-skating adventures with Joe as a child.

That day, the ice permitting, was now finally here. Tomorrow, Tom would take Will’s hand in his to steady him and then slowly pull him along over the ice. Will would have trouble keeping his balance, just like everyone did when they first donned a pair of skates, and he would fall every now and then. Tom would grin at him and help him back to his feet, and maybe Will would reach for him then, pale fingers clinging to his coat in desperation. Maybe they would both fall and end up on the ice with bruised tailbones, their breaths mingling in the cold winter air as they laughed at their own clumsiness.

And maybe – maybe Tom would finally be brave enough to cross that last bit of distance that remained between them and mend what was torn apart so brutally in France on April 6th 1917.

He startled out of his thoughts when Myrtle let out a sudden bark, loud and urgent. She was standing a few meters ahead of him in the snow, her eyes focused on the lake below as she cocked her head, and before Tom could stop her she started running.

“Myrtle, no!” he shouted as he hurried after her through the ankle-deep snow but she didn’t listen. She didn’t slow down at all as she headed straight for the lake, and for one horrible moment Tom thought she would jump into it. His stomach dropped and a jolt of pure panic went through him at the thought of her breaking through the ice and plunging into the freezing waters below. “Myrtle, _stop_!”

At the last possible second she slowed down and came to a stop right at the edge of the frozen lake. She started walking up and down the shoreline in agitation, barking up a storm at something out on the lake Tom couldn’t see as he stumbled over hidden logs in the snow in his hurry to reach her. He fell to his knees by her side, pressing his face against her damp fur in relief, and gripped her collar tightly.

“You stupid girl,” he muttered, voice shaking as his heart thundered in his chest. “You stupid, _stupid_ girl. What were you thinking?”

Myrtle kept on barking. She tried to pull him towards the lake but Tom held her back by her collar, not willing to take any risks. Behind them, Will’s boots crunched in the snow, the noise barely audible above Myrtle’s ruckus. Helplessly, Tom looked up at him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. I’ve never seen her like this before.”

He held her close to him so she couldn’t break away, and Will frowned as he let his gaze wander over the frozen lake. His eyes narrowed. “Is that …?”

He let the question hang and took a step closer to the lake. Tom followed his gaze. His eyes widened when they landed on the tiny thing Will, and Myrtle before him, had spotted. “What the hell is a kitten doing out here?”

Three, maybe four meters into the lake, a drenched grey kitten was meowing pitifully and desperately trying to escape the freezing waters. Its paws kept slipping on the ice, struggling for purchase, and every time it put any weight on them the ice broke off, sending the kitten back into the water once more.

 _So much for going ice-skating tomorrow_ , Tom thought.

“We need to help it,” he said, keeping a firm hold on Myrtle’s collar as he started to look around for a stick or a branch that was long enough to reach the kitten. He thought he’d spotted one that looked promising and was about to point it out to Will when he felt his stomach drop for a second time that day. Because Will – stupid, heroic, handsome Will – was already walking towards the lake with a determined look on his face. He didn’t have a branch in his hand but his coat and gloves were lying in in a pile in the snow behind him.

Before Tom could say or do anything, Will took a deep breath and stepped onto the thin ice. It cracked and broke beneath his boot at once, and his lower leg sunk into the freezing waters of the lake.

Tom’s heart stopped.

“What are you doing, you idiot?” he shouted. “You can’t go in there! It’s too cold!”

Will didn’t listen. He took another step, and then another and another until his feet found no more footing and he had to swim. The freezing water was up to his ears but his strokes were steady as he moved towards the kitten, looking for all the world as if the cold didn’t bother him. Once the kitten was within reach, he grabbed it by the scruff of its neck and lifted it out of the water. Even from a distance Tom could see it shivering pitifully in the cold evening air. Will looked at it for a moment, clearly not knowing what to do with it now that he had it in his hands, and finally placed it on his head – the only part of him that was still dry. He made sure it wouldn’t fall off by moving his head from left to right before he turned around and began to swim back the way he’d come.

The whole thing lasted maybe one minute, two at the most, but to Tom it felt like hours. He held his breath as he watched Will’s progress from the shore. His whole body was coiled like a spring, ready to snap, as he willed the seconds to go faster. He felt utterly helpless when Will started slowing down and pushed weakly at the drifting ice to clear a path, and didn’t even notice when Myrtle stopped struggling against his hold, too focused on Will’s progress to feel the pull on his hand cease.

Two more meters.

One.

Will’s fingers clawed at the frozen earth as he dragged himself out of the water, and Tom was at his side in an instant.

“You bloody idiot!” he said even as he wrapped his arms under Will’s and pulled him away from the lake. “You stupid, bloody idiot! Why would you do that?”

Will looked up at him, his face pale and his lips tinged blue, and said hoarsely, “If I h-hadn’t gone in, you would have.”

Tom stared at him, his blood rushing so loudly in his ears that it drowned out Will’s harsh breaths. _He did this for me_ , he thought numbly, the realization weighing heavily on him. Will had known Tom wouldn’t stand by and watch an animal drown in freezing waters, so he’d acted before Tom could. Because Tom’s wellbeing – no, Tom’s _life_ – was more important to him than his own.

Tom felt tears burn his eyes and bit back a sob as he sank down to his knees next to Will. “You need to take off your shirts,” he mumbled hoarsely.

Will nodded, a sudden, abrupt movement that almost dislodged the kitten from his head. With shaking hands, he reached for it and held it out to Tom. “T-take it?”

“Of course,” Tom whispered.

The kitten was so small it almost fit into his palms. He gently rubbed it dry with his gloves while Myrtle licked warmth back into it. It was only then that Tom noticed that it was missing a front leg, and suddenly the reason for it being in the water became painfully clear to him: someone had tried to get rid of it because it was broken.

He thought of Will’s scarred left hand and the nerve damage the barbed wire had caused that made it practically useless now. He thought of Joe’s limp that would never go away, and the empty socket of Leslie’s right eye that he defiantly refused to cover up for other people’s sakes. He thought back to his own wound, hidden beneath layers of clothes right now and aching fiercely after all the impromptu running a few minutes ago.

They were all broken in different ways. No one who went to war had come back whole – but they had survived, and Tom would be damned if he wasn’t proud of that. They weren’t less for what they had lost, no matter what other people might think. Joe was still his annoying older brother, limp or no limp. Leslie still managed to give him headaches with a single, well-timed eyeroll or sarcastic remark.

And Will? Will still stole his breath away with every smile that lit up his eyes. No amount of scarring and shellshock could ever change that.

As gently as he could, Tom put the kitten into the inside pocket of his coat, close to his skin and body heat, hoping that would be enough to keep it alive until they got home. Then he looked at Will who was still kneeling on the frozen ground and trying to close the buttons of his coat over his bare chest with shaking fingers. His skin was covered in goosebumps and even though the light was slowly dimming Tom could see dark shadows beneath his ribs from the years of rotten army rations he’d been subjected to.

Swallowing hard, he gently took hold of Will’s cold, trembling hands and said, “Let me.”

Will nodded and Tom wasted no time buttoning up the coat. He helped Will into his dry gloves next, making sure neither cold nor wind could sneak its way past the hem of the sleeves. There was nothing he could do about the wet trousers, though, and when Tom pulled Will to his feet Will’s shoes made awful squelching sounds in the snow.

“Let’s get you home,” Tom said softly, trying not to let his worry show.

It was about a twenty-minute walk back to the farmhouse if they took the straightest way back – twenty minutes of walking through ankle-deep snow over uneven terrain in the cold, and Tom knew the temperatures were only bound to drop now that the sun was beginning to disappear behind the horizon. Will was already shivering badly, and with his wet clothes clinging to his skin it wouldn’t take long until his core temperature would drop dangerously low. Tom had seen it happen before, years ago when a boy stepped onto another frozen lake despite everyone’s warnings. He’d only survived because he’d had several friends with him who carried him home in record time.

Will didn’t have several friends at his disposal right now, though. He only had Tom, and Myrtle who stayed close to his legs and whined every now and then as if to urge him to keep going. It wasn’t much in the form of help but Tom hoped it would be enough. It had to be. Will hadn’t survived four years of horror in France only for him to die from the cold in a snowy field back home. He was a survivor, and Tom counted on that sheer strength of will he knew Will possessed to keep him going until they made it home. If Will could reach Tom’s brother against all odds, he sure as hell could reach a farmhouse.

At least that was what Tom kept telling himself.

When Will stumbled over nothing, barely catching himself in time, his confidence begin to waver. Will was starting to drag his feet, was slowing down, and Tom knew that wasn’t a good sign. He reached for Will’s hand and Will’s fingers closed around his in an icy iron grip, holding on as if for dear life.

“Come on,” Tom urged. “It’s not far now.”

Not far didn’t mean close, though. The longer they walked, the slower Will’s steps became. He kept blinking as if he was caught in a snowstorm, and he would shake his head every now and then at things Tom couldn’t see. Tom tried to think of something to say, anything to keep Will’s mind sharp and alert, but nothing beyond, “Almost there, Will. Just a little bit further and we’re home,” passed his lips.

Slowly, the sun crept behind the horizon. Where before the snow had seemed to glow a fiery orange, the bright colour now faded to a pale, cold blue. The waning moon was still bright enough to light their way but it didn’t stop the temperatures from plummeting. Despite his layers of clothes, Tom began to feel the cold creep into his bones. He shivered and hated himself for it, knowing that Will was a lot worse off than he was. He could feel it in the way Will’s hold on his hand gradually grew weaker. He saw it in the dark blue colour of Will’s lips, and he heard it in the way Will’s steps would falter more and more often.

Then they stopped altogether.

They had just walked up a ridge, and the warm glow of his mother’s kitchen windows was finally visible in the distance when Tom felt Will weakly pull on his hand. He turned to him, about to ask what was wrong, when Will gasped out, “Rest. I … I need to rest.”

All the alarm bells in Tom’s head went off. They drowned out the wind, their laboured breathing and Myrtle’s whines in a deafening cacophony of sound when Will pulled away from him completely and dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Myrtle was at his side immediately, pushing her warm nose against Will’s hands, his chest, his face to encourage him to get up.

The sight broke Tom’s heart.

“We can’t rest now, Will,” he said as gently as he could as he crouched in front of him. “Look,” he pointed over his shoulders towards the farmhouse. “We’ve almost made it. We’re almost there.”

It was like Will hadn’t heard him.

“Just let me rest,” he murmured. He was slurring his speech so badly Tom had trouble understanding him. “Just for a bit.”

Will’s eyes fell shut and he began to list to the side.

Tom panicked.

“ _No_!” he said sharply. He pulled at Will’s arms to drag him back to his feet. “I will not let you fucking rest, you bastard! You walk your skinny ass back home with me right now or so help me god.”

Will blinked at him from under his frozen lashes. It took him a moment to focus on Tom’s face, but when he did his features softened and he smiled. “It’s okay, Tom,” he whispered. “You go on. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

“Like hell you will!” Tom told him. He wrapped his arm around Will’s back and began to pull him along with him. “You are not going to die on me out here, William Schofield. Do you hear me? You are _not_ going to die!”

They stumbled down the ridge, and every time Will fell Tom ruthlessly pulled him back up again, no matter how much Will pleaded with him to stop. He began to talk, about everything and nothing, and when he ran out of mundane things to say he talked about France, a topic neither of them had dared to touch until now.

Tom, trembling and scared out of his mind, was beyond caring.

“Remember that German bunker, Will?” he asked. “This is a bit like that, isn’t it? The both of us stumbling through the dark. Of course, there’s no rats here now and it’s a hell of a lot colder than it was back in April.”

Will tripped over a root and Tom reached out with his other arm to steady him.

“You trusted me back then. Remember? You held onto me and you trusted me to get you out of there.” He tightened his hold on Will. “I need you to trust me again now, okay? I need you to hold on and let me get you home, Will. Please.”

The last word was nothing more than a whisper, a desperate plea because Tom didn’t think Will was listening to him, was probably not able to anymore, and Tom had no idea what else to do to get through to him.

He almost stumbled in surprise when Will let out a shuddering breath and murmured faintly, “O-okay.”

Tom closed his eyes in relief and allowed himself a brief moment to bury his face in Will’s damp neck. “You can rest in a bit, I promise,” he whispered against Will’s cold skin. “We’re almost there.”

He knew he’d made that promise a dozen times already but this time it turned out to be true. The lit windows of the farmhouse were no longer tiny pinpricks in the distance but almost within reach now. All they had to do was enter the orchard and cross it, and they’d be home.

Myrtle, upon recognizing the familiar stone walls of the orchard, ran ahead and began to bark as loud as she could until the front door opened and Tom could see his mother’s silhouette standing in the doorway. He could have wept in relief as he realized that he wasn’t alone in this anymore. His mother would know what to do, and Will would _live_.

“Mum!” he called out to her, almost sobbing, and her head snapped up from Myrtle towards him, searching for him in the dark. A hand flew to her mouth when she noticed how heavily Will was leaning on him, and without thinking she hurried outside and towards them in her slippers, not even bothering to get her coat.

“What happened?” she asked as she wrapped her arm around Will from the other side so Tom wouldn’t have to bear his weight alone.

“He jumped into a lake to save a kitten,” Tom explained as quickly as he could. His voice started to shake. “Mum, he’s – he’s not doing so good.”

His mother’s reassuring smile calmed him even more than her words did. “Let’s get him inside and warmed up.”

By the time they reached the door Myrtle’s barking had lured Joe and Leslie downstairs as well. As they passed them, Tom unceremoniously pulled the kitten out of his pocket and shoved it into Leslie’s surprised hands. The tiny thing meowed pitifully and Leslie instinctively cradled it close to his chest.

“Well, shit,” he muttered.

“Make sure it stays warm,” Tom said before his attention was back on Will. Despite the warm glow of the lamps he looked deathly pale. The dark blue of his lips was in stark contrast to his almost white skin, and Tom didn’t like the unfocused look in his half-lidded eyes at all.

He had just barely finished that thought when Will’s legs gave out beneath him without warning, sending all three of them abruptly to their knees right there in the middle of the hallway.

“Sorry,” Will mumbled.

He swayed, clearly running out of strength to hold himself up, and Tom pulled him against his side to keep him from falling over. He could feel Will’s breath against his neck, harsh and shuddering, as shivers wrecked Will’s thin frame, and exchanged a worried look with his mother. She shook her head, telling him without words that Will wasn’t likely to take another step in the condition he was in.

Tom nodded in understanding. He took a deep, calming breath.

“It’s okay,” he told Will with a trembling smile. And it was. Tom could carry him the rest of the way, and he would do it gladly. “You did good, Will.”

He brought Will to the sofa in the living room where the fireplace was burning blessedly brightly. With his brother’s help, Tom managed to pull off Will’s wet clothes, dry his clammy skin and help him into the warmest clothes his mother had found upstairs.

Before Tom could go off in search of blankets, his mother pulled him aside. “Joe can get them,” she said. “ _You_ need to change. Put on something warm.” She lowered her voice. “I’m afraid blankets alone won’t do it.”

Tom swallowed hard and nodded. He took one last look at Will, still shivering despite the warmth of the fire and the dry clothes he was now wearing, and hurried upstairs to his bedroom to change. When he came back down, Will was bundled up in at least five different blankets with Myrtle pressing close against his side to provide some extra warmth. Hunched in on himself on the old sofa, he looked small and fragile, something Tom wouldn’t have thought possible.

Before today, Will had always seemed like a rock to him – tall, steadfast and unwavering. He had this quiet strength about him most people took for reclusiveness but Tom knew better. He’d witnessed it first-hand every time Will shared his food with him no matter how hungry he himself was. He’d seen it in all the little things Will had done to keep him save, from insisting to be the first to go over the top of a trench to stopping him from making rash and stupid decisions whenever Tom let his heart rule his thoughts instead of his head.

Most of all, he’d felt it when Will held his hand and promised him to find his brother as embers rained down on them like snowflakes in winter or cherry petals in spring.

Will had done all that and so much more for him in France, and he kept on doing the same now as if nothing had changed, as if they weren’t home and safer than they’d been in years. Tom didn’t think he’d ever have the words or gestures to thank him for it – for _any_ of it. Nothing could possibly encompass all that Will meant to him. But he would try, and if Will allowed it Tom would hold his hand for all the years to come and love and cherish him for the rest of their lives.

He hoped with all his heart that Will would grant him that.

For now, Tom settled down next to him, taking Myrtle’s place as his guardian and personal heater. “It’s okay, girl,” he murmured to her. “You did great.”

She gave Will’s face one last affectionate nuzzle before she walked over to Leslie and Joe by the fire and dropped herself right into Leslie’s lap to curl around the blanket-wrapped kitten. Leslie stared at her wide-eyed, not quite used to Myrtle’s affections yet, before he slowly relaxed. Tom smiled at the sight. His heart filled with warmth that had nothing to do with the fire when Joe scooted closer to them and scratched Myrtle behind her ears, his fingers brushing against Leslie’s every now and then where they rested in her fur.

 _Good for them_ , he thought.

He wrapped his arm around Will’s back to pull him close just as his mother came back into the living room. She was holding two steaming mugs of tea in her hands. 

“Will, love?” she asked, crouching down in front of the sofa. “Would you like some tea?”

Will blinked sluggishly at her. “Hm?”

Tom’s smile turned sad. “Thanks, Mum. I’ll make sure he drinks it.”

His mother nodded and handed him one of the mugs. She placed the other on the table within easy reach before she pressed one of her hands against Will’s cheek and frowned. “He’s still too cold.”

Tom wasn’t surprised. He could feel Will’s shivers even through the layers of blankets around him. He blew on the tea for a minute or two to cool it down before he angled his body so he could face Will.

“Hey,” he said gently. “I need you to drink this, okay?”

He held the mug up to Will’s lips but Will turned his head away. Tom tried again. “Will? Please, this will warm you up.”

“Rest,” Will mumbled, his voice heavy with exhaustion, and Tom’s heart broke.

“In a bit, okay?” he whispered. “I promise.”

He heard Will sigh but then the blankets moved and Will’s hands came up from their depths. They were shaking too hard for him to hold the cup on his own but Tom didn’t make a big deal out of it. He simply held onto the mug as Will brought it up to his lips and steadied it so the tea didn’t spill.

When the mug was almost empty, Will leaned back and shook his head.

“Okay,” Tom said and put the mug on the table, unwilling to force Will to drink the rest of it.

He drained his own mug in a matter of seconds and felt pleasant warmth pool in his belly. His mother took the empty mug from him with a smile but Tom’s focus was already back on Will. He took in the heavy-lidded eyes, the slight colour that had returned to his cheeks, the way Will’s weight seemed to rest more heavily against his side than before, and said, “How about we lie down, hm?”

Will made a soft sound of protest against his shoulder but allowed Tom to move him until he was stretched out on the sofa, facing the fireplace. Tom lay down behind him, his chest pressed close to Will’s back, and pulled the blankets back up to their ears so no precious warmth could escape. One of his hands found Will’s cold fingers and held them tightly.

“Is this okay?” he murmured.

Will sighed and relaxed against him. “Yes.”

“Good.” Tom buried his nose in Will’s neck. “You can sleep now if you like.”

Will pulled his hand up against his chest, against his _heart_ , and gave it a weak squeeze. “Thank you,” he whispered.

A lump formed in Tom’s throat and he closed his eyes, willing more of his warmth to seep into Will’s trembling body. “I should be thanking you,” he mumbled. “I’m not the one who risked his life today.”

“You brought me home,” Will murmured, the words running together as exhaustion began to pull him under. “You always do.”

He relaxed in Tom’s embrace and Tom could feel Will’s heartbeat slowing down beneath his palm as his breathing evened out in sleep. The true meaning behind Will’s words began to sink in, soft and slow, and Tom felt his breath catch in his throat as he realized something: while Will had been his rock over the last two years, he had been like a star for Will in return, gently guiding him on, guiding him forward, guiding him _home_. He might not have been physically there for Will during the last year of the war – stuck in aid posts at first, then hospitals and convalescent homes until he’d finally been released into his mother’s loving hands – but the simple knowledge that Tom was alive and well somewhere, even if it was beyond his sight and reach, had been enough to bring Will comfort. Just like a sailor followed the stars at night when nothing else could be seen and all hope seemed lost, Will had turned to him in his darkest moments to remember what he was fighting for, why he needed to live.

They had found each other, two parts of a whole, in a war-torn country, and no matter how much pain and suffering that war had brought them and so many others, Tom would never forget or regret that it had also brought him Will – and that made the whole wretched thing worth it in his opinion. Thinking of the soft look in Joe’s eyes when he’d gazed at Leslie earlier, Tom was sure his brother would agree with him on that. They had both found something precious among the ruined fields of France, something that would have slipped through their fingers without that war to end wars, and Tom wouldn’t change that for anything, not even his own health.

He pulled Will closer against him, felt his heart beat strongly against his fingers, and couldn’t help but whisper against his skin, “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

Will continued to breathe softly and as his shivers slowly became less frequent and violent, Tom allowed himself to relax as well. He let his eyes drift close and listened to the crackling of the fire until everything else became background noise. He didn’t notice when Leslie and Joe turned in for the night, the kitten safe in their hands. He heard neither the sound of Myrtle’s claws on the wooden board when she walked over to lay down in front of the sofa to keep watch over them, nor the soft clinking of the mugs as his mother cleared the table and turned off the lights with a whispered, “Goodnight, my boys.”

There was only the fire and Will, and the pull of sleep.

It lasted until the early hours of the morning when Will murmured sleepily, “Tom?”

The fire had burned down to glowing embers overnight, and the sun hadn’t risen yet.

Tom let out a soft breath and buried his head deeper into the warmth of Will’s skin. “I’m here. How do you feel?”

“Better,” Will said softly. “Warm.”

Tom closed his eyes again. “That’s good,” he breathed. He shifted to get more comfortable. “Go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

“Okay,” Will whispered. A beat, and then – ”Is the kitten alright?”

Tom let out a soft laugh and felt goosebumps spread across Will’s skin. “Yeah, it is. I hope you didn’t plan on adopting it, though. I think Joe and Leslie already did that.”

Will tightened his hold on his hand, and Tom could hear the soft smile in his voice when he murmured, “I don’t mind. Having Myrtle is more than enough for me.”

Surprised, Tom blinked his eyes back open. Will’s words felt like a promise, a quiet affirmation of _I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll let me_ and _I am happy here, with you_. Tom’s heart swelled with happiness and more love than he knew what to do with. He felt almost drunk with it, and the feeling only intensified when he pressed his face into the soft space between Will’s neck and shoulder once more.

“She’s the best,” he agreed softly, at a loss for words in the face of Will’s honesty.

Myrtle, upon realizing they were talking about her, lifted her head and looked at them for a moment before she jumped up onto the sofa to trample all over them in her eagerness to give them both very enthusiastic good morning kisses. They laughed and squirmed under her affections, trying to push her away, and after a few moments she finally relented and settled down behind Tom’s legs. Her head came to rest on top of their hips and Tom gave her a loving scratch behind the ears.

“She’s also the worst,” he decided.

Will chuckled. It sounded soft, as if he was on the verge of falling asleep again, and Tom hoped there would come a time when he would get to wake up like this every morning, with Will in his arms and Myrtle making them laugh with her silly antics and the first rays of the sun just beginning to peak over the horizon.

He closed his eyes and dreamed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Also, if you want to say hi, you can find me [here](https://ailendolin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. :)


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